I'm Not Going Anywhere
by Letters to Ghosts
Summary: The kind of fifth season Rayna and Deacon deserved. (AU, obviously.)


Deacon reckons running through an airport looks a lot better in movies than real life. There's no dramatic music, no frantic clapping to encourage his chivalrous attempt to get to the love of his life, only weird looks from the few people still there at this late hour. His name has already been called three times on the loudspeaker, and he swears the voice sounded more annoyed each time.

"Mr. Claybourne?" the airline employee asks when he finally reaches the boarding gate. She puts a forced smile on as Deacon takes his phone and passport out of his pocket. "Thank you, sir, have a nice flight."

He hurries down the jetway and the plane's aisle, quickly stows his bag in the compartment, before he settles in his seat.

"You almost missed it," the man sitting next to him feels the need to remind him.

"Story of my life." He smiles to himself. "But I'm here now."

—

It's been less than a day, and Rayna already misses her husband.

What was she thinking? Driving alone across the country is not what's going to cure her recent _mal de vivre_. If anything, she should be spending more time with Deacon. They have already wasted so many years apart. She wants to write with him, she wants to record with him, she wants to tour with him. She wants to tell the world about this strange, messy, sometimes painful, but always filled-with-so-much-love journey they've been on together for almost 30 years now.

Until then, however, all she can do is make the most of her little last-minute adventure. Of course, it doesn't help that being on the road is so intertwined with Deacon in her mind that everything reminds her of him.

She remembers that Watty hasn't put a foot in a plane since the day Patsy Cline died. He drives everywhere. If he can do it, she certainly can too. She stops her red Mustang on the side of the road, reaches for her phone on the passenger seat and scrolls through the albums in her music library. She settles for Lucinda Williams, 'Car Wheels on a Gravel Road.' _Not a day goes by, I don't think about you._ Sounds appropriate.

—

It's not how it was supposed to happen.

She'd had this fantasy playing in her head all the way back home of the moment she would tell Deacon about her big idea. The last thing she'd expected was his flagrant lack of enthusiasm and him agreeing to go make a record with Miss Whatshernuggets.

He's right, though.

She got so excited out there on the road, she wasn't thinking about how painful it might be for him. Their relationship is the most important thing in the world to her. He's the heart and soul of everything, her creative process, her life. She doesn't want him to feel like she's trying to force him into anything or trap him in any way.

Deacon has to be fully on board, or this album has no reason to exist.

—

There are cameras outside their house – thanks to an unhinged fanboy obsessing over Rayna – and there's a camera inside their house – thanks to a rich fanboy obsessing over Rayna. Privacy isn't a word Deacon is familiar with anymore these days.

Rayna calls him out of the blue, one afternoon, to ask him if his recent "Why don't we get a room?" proposal still stands. Gene is filming at Highway 65, and she needs to get the hell out of there _right now_.

Deacon is already waiting for her near the elevators when she enters the hotel's lobby, the keycard for room 308 safely tucked in his back pocket. He's wearing jeans and a dark blue shirt that fit in all the right places and it crosses Rayna's mind she might want to send Gene a thank-you card.

"Got followed?" he whispers. He's clearly having way too much fun with this.

"Walked near water so the dogs would lose my scent."

They both laugh, and he kisses her as she fumbles for the button to call the elevator. It's empty when they step inside, but an old couple barge in before the doors close.

The woman takes one look at Rayna and wastes no time in asking, "Excuse me, but are you Rayna Jaymes?"

"Oh, no, no, no, but I get that all the time. It's the hair, I guess?"

Deacon holds back his smile. It's not the first time he watches Rayna try to pull this off when she's not in the mood for the whole pictures-taking and autographs-signing and we-cannot-believe-it-is-really-you.

"I swear, you look exactly like her," the man chimes in.

"Can't carry a tune, though."

The couple let out a polite laugh, and Deacon isn't convinced they're buying it, but either way, they're courteous enough not to insist. He would probably feel bad for them if he wasn't really, _really_ looking forwards to getting out of this elevator.

"It was nice meeting y'all," Rayna says when they reach the third floor and the doors open again. Deacon guides her outside with his hand on the small of her back.

"Have a great afternoon," the woman replies.

Deacon is looking at Rayna when he declares, "Oh, we will."

—

They, as a rule, can't catch a break.

Hence, they should probably have seen it coming.

—

Rayna often thinks about it, the power of music. How she's able to connect with complete strangers through her songs, through her words, to impact their lives in some way. Never had she thought her songs could lead to her death.

"You met me the day I heard your first single on my mom's stereo back in West Memphis. You spoke to me in a way that I couldn't speak to myself."

Rayna doesn't die that day, because she uses her words to save herself.

—

Deacon is waiting outside the house, and she falls into his arms the minute she gets out of the police car.

She stopped crying somewhere on the way home, but the tears are back now. This last day, this last month, this last year, it's all been too much. Everyone has a breaking point, and she thinks maybe today was it for her. This time, she feels it's going to be a while before she'll dust herself off and start chasing it again.

All she wants at the moment is for Deacon to carry her inside, close the door, and for the world to forget about them.

—

She misses Daphne's concert.

She misses Daphne's next concert.

Then two months have gone by, and she hasn't put a foot outside.

Even Maddie worries about her at this point, and you know it's bad when Maddie worries about anything other than herself. It used to be a struggle to keep her daughter home. Now, she won't leave her side.

It's not like Rayna has been taking it easy these last two months. Bucky brings everything to her, she video-conferences, and Deacon and she have written a dozen new songs for their album.

It's just that she refuses to do any of that outside of their house.

—

Bucky has this habit of clearing his throat and scratching the bridge of his nose before he has something uncomfortable to say. It's unconscious, of course, but he does it every single time. Rayna will never mention it to him, she likes the idea of having some sort of secret warning.

"I wanted to apologize," he announces. They've been sitting around her kitchen's table for a good hour now, reviewing the latest developments at the label.

"What for?"

"I feel like what happened to you is my fault." He looks relieved then, like he's been trying to utter those words for a while.

"How on earth could it be your fault?"

"I downplayed the threat. I should have taken it more seriously from the moment you got the first letter, and—"

"Buck," she interrupts. "Deacon and I hired a whole team of professionals whose only job was to protect our family, and the guy still managed to hide _in a broom closet_. If anyone screwed up, it's them."

"It's my job, too, to protect you."

Rayna wonders sometimes – most of the time – what she did to deserve Bucky Dawes. Her first manager was an asshole who was okay with her getting abused if it was in the interest of helping her career. Then came Bucky who revealed himself to be not only highly competent, but also a genuinely good human being. She's confident she wouldn't be where she is today without him.

She slides a hand across the table and puts it over his. "No, it's not. And you don't have to worry, I'm fine. Well," she corrects herself, "I will be."

He nods because he believes her. She has gone through worse before, and she'll overcome this too. "If we could spend a few months without any major disaster, I think my poor heart could use a rest."

She smiles. "I'll do my best."

—

"Shit!"

Even all the way from the living room and over the blaring sound of the alarm, Rayna can hear Maddie curse and rush to enter the code on the keypad. Her daughter still looks pissed when she removes her jacket, lets her purse drop to the floor, and flops down on the couch next to Rayna.

"Sorry, I don't know why the stupid alarm went off."

"You're already home?"

It's barely 9:30 pm, and it's the first evening in a while Rayna had succeeded in persuading Maddie to go out and have fun.

"The band sucked, Clay called me a music elitist, so we fought and I left. Can't believe you forced me to go."

There's a beat before they look at each other and both chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. If you'd told either of them three months ago that Rayna would someday have to convince Maddie to leave the house.

"Honey, I appreciate you thinking you have to look after me, but—"

"It's my fault, you know," her daughter blurts out.

"What's your fault?"

"What happened to you."

"What is it with y'all today?" Rayna asks. At this, Maddie throws her a confused look. "I just had the exact same conversation with Bucky this afternoon," she explains.

"Why would Bucky think it's his fault?"

"Why would _you_ think it's your fault?"

"If you hadn't come to see Clay perform that day, you would have stayed home. You wouldn't have stopped by your office."

"You don't really believe that, do you?"

Rayna has spent so much of her life torturing herself with what-ifs, she doesn't wish it on her daughter. What if Vince hadn't died. What if Deacon's first, second, third, fourth time in rehab had worked. What if she had told him about Maddie when she was pregnant. What if she had told him when Maddie was two, or four, or six. _What if_.

But it's another kind of conversation her daughter wants to have. "Clay told me how his mom kept popping in and out of his life. You've always been there for me. And I have done nothing but act like a selfish bitch."

"Hey, don't say that."

"It's true. And I take it for granted you'll always be here. I honestly don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you."

Rayna doesn't remember the last time she's seen her daughter so vulnerable. She had encouraged her to apologize to Deacon, but she had never gotten an apology herself.

Maddie snuggles against her, and Rayna kisses her forehead. "I'm still here, honey."

—

"If I was living in _this_," Sadie remarks with a gesture in the general direction of the house, "I would never want to go out either."

"Technically, we _are_ outside."

Sadie chuckles at that as she reaches for her glass of Syrah. Her fingers are numb despite the warmth coming from the backyard's fire pit and the layers of blankets Rayna and she are wrapped into. No matter the temperature, tonight's sky is too beautiful to stay in.

They're quiet then, sipping on their wine, and smiling at the occasional shooting star.

"Sadie," Rayna breaks the silence after a while, "I know why Deacon called you, but I'm not... I'm not ready to talk about it yet."

She understands. It took her more than a year to get there.

"I only want you to know that I'm here. Whenever you'll need me."

—

It's the third night in a row Deacon wakes up before dawn. It's the third night in a row Deacon wakes up _alone_. The house is dead quiet, and he's not sure what roused him from sleep. Maybe he's developped some sixth sense that warns him when his wife is missing from their bed. It's not out of the realm of possibility.

This time, he finds her sitting on the living room's couch, her laptop balanced on her thighs. She looks so focused, he doubts she hears him approach.

"Baby, what are you doing?"

"Printing out my will," she informs him, without as much as a flinch.

He stops for a second, rubbing his eyes. "Ok," he sighs, before he goes to sit next to her. "Don't you have an army of lawyers who have already taken care of this for you a long time ago?"

"Yeah, but I wanted to make some changes."

"And you needed to do this _now_?"

"Yeah. Did you know you can find do-it-yourself wills online?"

"I did." This causes her to take her eyes off the screen and look at him. "My cancer," he explains.

"Oh."

This seems to give Rayna pause, and he uses the opportunity to close the lid of her laptop and put it on the coffee table. "Talk to me, Ray."

She grabs one of the couch pillows, fiddling with it for a long time before choosing to speak.

"I remember feeling so _lost_ after my mom died. History repeating itself, me doing the same to my daughters, it has always been one of my worst fears. After our accident, I think I started to believe I didn't have to worry about it anymore, because I had survived, you know? I had cheated fate somehow, and what were the chances of me having a brush with death again so soon? But despite all the security, this guy still—"

She properly breaks down then, and he doesn't say anything – he doesn't think she expects him to – he only holds her close while she cries.

"I'm feeling helpless," she admits once she has slid out of his embrace and recovered enough to speak.

"You know, the thing I've heard the most these last 15 years is 'Focus on what can control and let go of what you can't.' And this, it's beyond your control, baby. It's beyond all our control. And I know it's a struggle to let go, but in the end, it's unbearable not to."

"When have you become so wise?" she asks, the ghost of a smile on her lips, the best she has to offer for now.

He grabs her hand, kissing her wrist. "I wish." He pulls her back to him. "It's going to be alright, Ray."

—

"Wanna go for a walk?" she asks him, one morning. It's cold as hell outside, but Deacon doesn't care. He's fine freezing to death if it means Rayna is getting better.

They take a long stroll in the park, and she's holding his hand tighter than usual when she tells him, "We should make a quick stop at Highway 65 on our drive back."

"If you never want to go there again, it's fine too, you know. We can retire somewhere and make music for ourselves for the rest of our lives."

She smiles. "It's _very_ tempting, but... we have an album to finish."

—

The day she officially comes back, Kurt drops by her office three times to remind her that if she needs anything, he'd be more than happy to help. Lydia, at the reception desk, smiles and asks if she's alright every time Rayna walks past her.

"Did you send a memo urging people to be extra nice to me?" she asks Bucky when he, too, shows up to check on her.

"Should I have?"

"It's even worse than the day I came back after the whole Luke debacle."

He has to laugh at that. "People here love you, Ray. You might as well get used to it."

—

They celebrate their one-year anniversary right where they were first supposed to celebrate their wedding, on Virginia Wyatt's beautiful land. They install tables, and they invite a bunch of friends and family to an outdoor buffet-style brunch. After having been cooped up for so long, Rayna thought it would be a good idea to spend a day in the open surrounded by people they love.

Given the sheer amount of musical talent gathered in one place, they've made sure to put up a small stage with guitars where everyone is welcome to go perform. They get fierce to sweet renditions of country classics – and not-so-classics – by the likes of Juliette and Avery, Sadie, Watty, Daphne and Maddie. Even Bucky, after a few drinks, caves in and agrees to an improbable duet with Tandy.

Deacon and Scarlett are on stage, belting out 'Hand to Hold,' when Rayna goes to sit in the temporarily vacant chair next to Sadie.

"Having a good time?"

"Oh, I am. This location is _gorgeous_."

"This was my mom's favorite place on earth."

"It's easy to see why." Sadie pauses, unsure. "Do you miss her?"

"On days like these, I do," Rayna admits. "It's strange, I mean, after all this time."

There are few people she feels comfortable talking to about her mom. She's not sure why, but Sadie is one of those people. There's been an understanding between them from the very moment they met. She's happy Sadie is back in town, it's a first step, and whenever she'll feel ready to resume her career, there will always be a place for her at Highway 65.

"You know what crossed my mind?" Rayna asks, without much of a segue. "I still have that silver sixpence you gave me."

Sadie seems confused for a second, before she remembers. "Oh, right!" She laughs. "Not sure how much luck that one brought you."

"Well," Rayna objects, pointing a finger in Deacon's direction, "in the end, it brought me all the luck I needed."

—

Zach is hanging around at the studio the day they record their last song. He looks like a kid in a candy store. He still can't believe his name is going to be in the liner notes of a Rayna Jaymes & Deacon Claybourne album.

He's taken a thousand selfies by the end of the afternoon, and he got a promise out of Deacon to sign and sell him one of the guitars used for the recording.

His involvement in Highway 65 has been going without a hitch so far, but Rayna is still waiting for the catch. She's always wary of what's too good to be true.

—

"Home is wherever you are, baby."

They have to make a choice before the end of the week, and Deacon is not being helpful at all. He loves all the houses they've visited so far. Rayna needs him to stop quoting songs and help her decide.

"Babe, I want this new house to be _ours_."

The cabin has always been more his than hers, and they're currently living in the outrageous mansion she bought with her ex-husband, a mansion that couldn't be less Deacon if it tried. They need a place that is entirely _theirs_. It's time.

"I'm serious, Ray. I don't care where we live as long as you're there."

—

"I don't know, honey, it will be four months. Last time we left you and your sister alone for one evening, you almost burned the house down."

Daphne rolls her eyes, even though she looks mostly amused. "I'll never hear the end of this, will I?"

"Call it your price to pay for interrupting our _extremely_ pleasant evening." Rayna glances over at Deacon who smiles into his cup of coffee.

It's just the three of them having breakfast this morning, as it's most often the case lately. Maddie is either already at work or still sleeping in on her days off.

"Lesson learned," Daphne assures. "Anyway, if you refuse to leave me alone with Maddie while you're on tour, what's the plan?"

"Tandy says she might manage to come live here with you while we're away but, you know, there's still the option for you to go with us. We'd get you out of school, you'd have a tutor on the road."

Rayna feels selfish to even contemplate it, but part of her knows sooner than later both her girls will have moved out to go live their own lives, and she wishes to spend as much time as she can with them until then. For Daphne, it would mean being away from her friends, from Finn, for several months, and that's why Rayna is surprised when her daughter seems to consider it.

"Maybe we should do that."

—

"We're never going to move."

"Do you mean from this bed or from this house?"

They have a strict schedule to follow if they want to be settled in their new home before the beginning of the tour.

Packing had seemed like a good opportunity to declutter her wardrobe. What had been less of a good idea, productivity-wise, was to ask Deacon his opinion about what to keep or throw from her lingerie drawer. He insisted he couldn't possibly make an informed decision without Rayna trying everything on.

"I really need to get back to it," she tries to convince herself. Instead, she lays her head on Deacon's chest and burrows further into him.

"Five more minutes," he coaxes. "I'll help you with your packing."

"If I recall, this is how we ended up here, babe."

—

Deacon's current view consists of a group of lucky fans wearing wireless headphones and sporting smiles that can probably be seen from Mars. There are all gathered in Highway 65's conference room which has been transformed for the occasion in a cozy cocoon of couches and floor pillows.

The exclusive listening party started an hour ago and, much to Deacon's relief, is going better than he anticipated. He'd sensed, since Wayne, that Rayna had been wary to interact with fans, and he wasn't sure that spending an entire afternoon locked up in a room with about thirty of them was a good idea. But she looks relaxed and at ease as she and Deacon are telling stories about each song, answering questions from people or just bantering with them.

He suspects he wasn't the only one to worry when Bucky shows up the minute the last fan has left. "How did it go?" he asks Rayna.

"Good. _Great_. But now I think we should use 'No Longer Alone' as the second single. It got the most passionate response."

"I don't know, Ray. We tested the songs, and since the first single is doing so well, we should probably stick to our original plan."

Rayna turns towards Deacon. "What do you think, babe?"

Both Rayna and Buck are staring at him, waiting for an answer. "Oh no, I'm not playing referee," he says, gesturing between the two of them.

"Chicken," she jests, with a big grin.

Deacon slides his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. "That would make you Mrs. Chicken."

"I've got the ring to prove it."

—

"You two have been writing together for, I'm going to say, nearly your whole life? I gotta ask, how different was your writing process now that you're married?"

It's the last day of their marathon week of press for the release of the album, and at this stage, Rayna would usually feel nothing but exhaustion and a good dose of frustration at having to answer the same questions over and over again. It's different, this time. This album is their story, and she doubts she'll ever get tired to talk about it.

"You wanna take that one, babe?" she asks. They're sharing one mic, their respective stools so close from one another that she can feel Deacon's warm thigh pressed against hers. She loves having him by her side through all this, she's been doing this part of the job by herself for so long.

"Well, I'm going to be honest, we had a bit of a rocky start with this album. It's such a personal one, and I guess we tried to dive right in the most painful parts of our story." He can feel Rayna's hand cover his. "But I don't think it had anything to do with us being married."

"We put a little too much pressure on ourselves," Rayna chimes in.

"We did. Once we found our rhythm again, this album has been nothing but pure joy to write."

"And it's nothing but pure joy to listen to," the radio host praises. "I've seen reviews call it an instant classic, and I can only agree."

"Thanks, Josh. We really appreciate you saying so."

—

It's been four days they've been living in their new home, or as Daphne loves to call it, _camping_ in their new home. The house is still a mess of boxes waiting to be unpacked and furniture waiting to be moved, but their busy schedule hasn't allowed time to do any of that just yet.

It's Saturday evening now, Daphne is at Annika's, Maddie is out with Clay, and they have no good excuse to be lazing in their living room except for the old videotape marked 'Studio, 1989' that Rayna found a moment ago in what she calls her Deacon's box.

"I haven't watched this in at least 20 years."

After a good half an hour trying to find and install the old VHS player, they're now cuddled on their brand new couch, having fun at the expanse of their younger selves.

"Oh my God, we were _babies_."

"I don't even remember who was filming."

He remembers that day, though. They were recording Rayna's first EP, and she couldn't stop laughing because of what he's sure was a mix of exhilaration and nervousness at the whole prospect. He'd tried to take her aside to calm her nerves. Instead, they'd ended up making out while everyone else was waiting for them in the next room.

He throws a look inside the open box. "How many of these are there?"

"A... few."

He grabs one, reads the label, 'Southside of Love Tour, 1992.'

"Baby, we're going to need snacks."

—

Deacon has been alone for barely two minutes, trying to take advantage of a rare moment of peace to clear his head, when Maddie walks in the dressing room. She grabs a paper plate, puts some strawberries and pineapple slices on it before she sits down on the couch across from him.

"Freaking out too?" she asks. "Because Mom is."

"Your mom is never freaking out."

"Tonight, she is," Maddie insists, sounding a bit too pleased. "I saw her sneak outside twice to smoke."

"You mom doesn't _smoke_."

"Tonight, _she does_."

At that, he looks at her, and they both let out a quiet laugh. "Oh, man," he says, rubbing a hand over his face.

It's the first of their three-night residency at the Ryman, the official kick-off of their tour, and in all honesty, he hadn't anticipated to be so nervous. He has no real reason to be. The album's sales, so far, have surpassed their expectations, the tour is almost sold out, and Bucky is happy as a clam.

"You know, I get why you're nervous," Maddie weighs in. "You two getting back on stage for the kind of shows you used to do back then, it feels like a landmark moment. And people _do_ have expectations. High expectations. But I've seen you at rehearsals, you're amazing."

"Thanks, sweetheart."

"And, well, on a personal note, I'm damn happy to be here to see it." Considering what a messed up year it's been, it wasn't a given. It wasn't a given Deacon would forgive her. He didn't have to. By any standard, what she did to him was near unforgivable.

"I'm damn happy you're here to see it," he says.

Besides his immense talent for music, what she hopes she inherited from him – and will manifest someday – is his resilience and his huge heart.

—

"So... smoking?" he asks, as Rayna and he are standing on the side of the stage, waiting to go on.

"Who's the little snitch?"

"Your firstborn daughter."

"Of course." She takes a deep breath then, grabs his hand and looks up at him. "Come sing with me?" He smiles at the throwback.

The minute they set foot on stage, they have already forgotten they ever were nervous.

—

They are three weeks into the tour when Watty calls to annouce he'll be in Indianapolis the next day. Rayna can't wait for him to see the show. There are a handful of people whose opinion about her career really matters to her, and Watty is in the top part of that short list.

Along with Deacon and Daphne, they all meet early afternoon in a café near the venue. The rain doesn't look like it's going to stop anytime soon so they end up talking, playing cards and having such a good time in general that they almost miss the soundcheck.

After the show, they're all back at the hotel, and it's just her and Watty at the lobby's bar, Deacon and Daphne having already headed upstairs. It's late, and the place is empty. According to the notice, it's supposed to be closed at this hour. She believes the only reason they haven't been kicked out yet is because the waiter recognized her earlier.

"You look happy," Watty tells her.

"That's because I'm where I'm supposed to be."

"It shows. Off and on stage."

She remembers Watty had tried to send her on a tour like this five years ago. She wonders sometimes how things would have turned out if she'd agreed to it.

She stares into her glass then, running one finger on the rim, but mostly just avoiding to look at him directly. "Watty?"

"Mhm?"

"I keep thinking about my mom lately. Maybe because of what happened, or rather what _didn't_ happen, I don't know. What I know is we've never talked about her again after our conversation at the hospital, and... now I feel the need to." She looks up. "Would you agree to talk to me about her?"

He takes a deep breath. "I would love to."

—

Deacon is asleep when she slips into bed. The bus is leaving in four hours, and she should let him get whatever rest he can until then, so it's not her proudest moment when she shakes his shoulder and calls out loud, "Babe?"

"Hey," he groans, turning over to face her. "How did it go?"

"Great." It's dark, but he can hear the smile in her voice.

"Did you ask him?"

"Yeah." She pauses. "I should let you go back to sleep, it can wait until tomorrow." She doesn't sound the least convincing. He knows she's dying to tell him.

He fumbles for the light switch above the bed head and turns it on. "I'm listening, baby."

—

"This is _not_ what happened," Deacon protests. "It was a coincidence."

"It was _not_ a coincidence," Daphne insists.

They picked up Maddie at O'Hare a few hours ago, and the whole family is now sitting around the bus table, sharing Chinese takeout and tour stories.

"Ray, a little help here?" Deacon asks, turning to his wife for support. She's been staying out of the conversation, content enough to listen, grateful to have the three most important people in her life here with her.

"I don't know, babe, that poor girl passed out _the exact moment_ you walked in. Bucky is thinking about having a paramedic at each meet-and-greet now."

Maddie bursts out laughing, and Deacon feigns offense, but he can't keep up the pretense very long. Rayna knows he's just as happy as she is these days, and it's the kind of happy that can't be contained.

—

She cried on stage tonight, right in the middle of 'Can't Remember Never Loving You.' She's not sure why, why tonight and not any other night, why this song and not any other song. She'd just finished singing the line "It's like you've been the only one for all my life," and she felt overwhelmed.

Deacon had to hold her for a good 30 seconds before she regained her composure. They started the song over again, and the audience didn't seem to mind. Quite the opposite.

"You're okay?" Deacon asks, as soon as they've walked off stage.

She nods before she slides into his arms. "Thank you," she says, and she's not sure if it's for never having stopped loving her, or for never having given up on them, or for having forgiven things she once thought were unforgivable, or for being here _now_, with her.

—

She has no idea how they ended up in this place. They weren't looking for it per se, their improvised hike in the woods led them here, near this beautiful, pristine lake. It's just nature and them, lying on their back, Rayna's head on Deacon's chest.

It's peaceful. Unhoped for.

She knows that if they want to be back on time for soundcheck, one of them will have to break this moment, but for now, neither of them seem inclined to.

"You know," she muses, "about that whole retiring and making music for ourselves thing?"

He opens his eyes, raises his head to look at her. "Yeah?"

"I'm not ready for it _yet_, obviously," she goes on. "But one day. One day, I will be."

"One day is fine," he says, smiling. He rests his head back down and closes his eyes again. "One day is perfect."

—

She knows now why they didn't go on that tour five years ago.

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

This.

This, now.

This now is how it was all supposed to happen.

—

They've been home for one week, and she's already packing again. She wonders sometimes how many hours – how many _days_ – of her life have been wasted putting clothes in and out of suitcases.

"The car's here!" Deacon calls from downstairs.

"One minute!"

One minute turns into five, and Deacon soon appears in their bedroom's doorway.

"Baby, we're going to be late."

"Will you relax? We've got plenty of time."

He sits on the bed with a sigh while she busies herself around the room. He waits in silence, but after a moment, she catches him smiling.

"What?" she asks.

"Nothing."

"You were going to make some joke about me being late for our honeymoon, of all things, right?"

"I wouldn't dare."

"Liar."

They've waited over a year and a half for a proper honeymoon – a couple of days at the cabin after their wedding didn't qualify as such – so she can't blame him for running out of patience.

He gets up as she zips her bag closed and hands it to him. "All done."

"About time," he teases.

"Eager, much?" she mocks.

"You have no idea." He steals a quick kiss before they head out of the bedroom. "Also," he adds, and he can't stress this enough, "I am done running through airports."


End file.
